Stranger (The Aevyanthis Chronicles, Book One)

Chapter Sixteen

It had not occurred to Yasashiku that something was terribly wrong. He had waited patiently by the archway, melting and unmelting with the shadows as each human passed him by. The wild dogs paid no attention to him as they rummaged through the streets in search of scraps, although another butterfly had grown curious, flitting to and fro like a leaf in the wind. Like all butterflies, she was full of air and song and riddle. She stayed with him for a while, the smell of lilacs on her wings, and she sang melodies and recited poems she had overheard from the marketplace. But when the wind grew chilled and the shadows grew longer, she bid him farewell and flew off into the hazy twilight in search of a more talkative companion.

When the evening star rose in the sky, he took flight, his dusty wings pumping hard against the winds above the Citadel. He could not sense where his master was; the moment she stepped over the threshold, her scent was lost to him. The thread that bound them together – that gossamer thread as thin as spider's silk – led into misty lands his kind could not touch. He never realized how much he yearned the sound of her beating heart until he could no longer hear it.

But still his eyes were searching, scanning for any movement below as he drifted along on the breeze. Clouds had begun to roll over the city, their bellies swollen with rain and the promise of winter, cloaking over the moons and the velvet violet sky. Many of the city folk were already inside their homes, their hearths burning low, and only the occasional passerby moved through the streets of the temple district, hitching up their robes as they hurried.

The street torches were slowly burning out as dawn began to approach. A flicker of white caught his eye as it leapt over fences and tunneled under bushes. Even a fox can go where I cannot, he thought bitterly. It looked up, and for a moment Yasashiku wondered if it had read his thoughts, until he realized it was staring up at the sky. At that same moment, the clouds parted, allowing moonlight to stream down over the sleeping city.

Heavy feet pounding against the cobbled street caught his attention, disjointed and erratic as if they were stumbling. When he looked back at the fox, it was gone. A cloaked figure came into view, bumbling and shouting as it rushed through the main street. Yasashiku dared to descend a little lower, just beyond the reaches of the wards and within earshot.

"Demon! Help us!" they were crying. His ears pricked at the words. It was Fallon, and in his arms was a familiar body that was once full of life, but now pale and unmoving and lifeless...

He fell from the sky, hitting the ground with a reverberating rumble. The street cracked from the impact. Fallon passed through the archway and fell to his knees, his eyes wide not from disbelief, but desperation. He lowered the motionless Emmeline to the ground, gingerly supporting the back of her head.

"Demon," he panted. "She is hurt... barely breathing... I found her when I woke..."

Yasashiku dropped to her side. Her breathing was shallow and irregular, riddled with small rasps. A layer of sweat had formed over her body, drenching her clothes. He could smell it, even before he dipped his fingers and tasted the blood that seeped from her stomach; the salty, metallic taste was laced with a bitterness that made his heart turn to stone.

"She has been poisoned," he breathed. "A concoction of poison and magick. Who did this to her?"

Fallon stared at him, his face a portrait of awe and fear. "I can understand you. You speak Common-"

"Who did this?" Yasashiku roared, lifting the elf up by the front of his tunic. By then, a few of the city folk had heard the shouting and assembled nearby, their torches lit and their swords by their sides. He could hear them murmuring to themselves, but he ignored them.